took the case up thereafter.’
‘Correct on both counts. The case of Beattie Gates was a notorious miscarriage of justice, which was never properly corrected.’
‘As I remember, there was nothing wrong with the conviction itself. I’ve had a word with my colleagues in Tayside, and with the officer who led the investigation. He’s retired now, but he remembers it clearly. His view is that there was no reasonable doubt raised during the trial that Mrs Gates killed her husband. Obviously the jury agreed with that, because their verdict was unanimous.’
‘Ah,’ said Kilmarnock, raising an admonitory finger, ‘but the subsequent medical evidence . . .’
‘Which your team failed to uncover and introduce at the trial, I’m told.’
‘Be that as it may. The subsequent evidence did establish very serious doubt. The trouble we had was that the Court of Criminal Appeal decided that it was not allowed to consider evidence that had not been put to the jury.’
Skinner frowned. ‘There’s no doubt that the Court was right about that, is there? That’s certainly the Lord President’s view.’
‘It may well have been correct,’ the advocate conceded. ‘That’s why my brother Arnold took up the case through the media.’
‘Yet your brother attacked the Court of Appeal, didn’t he? To a point at which Lord Orlach considered charging him with contempt, and had to be dissuaded by the Lord Advocate of the day, and, I’m told, by Christabel Dawson.’
Kilmarnock spluttered. ‘That old witch!’
‘She kept your brother out of jail, though. She told me so this afternoon.’
‘A contempt charge would have been ridiculous, and provocative with an election coming up.’
Skinner smiled. ‘You’re certainly right about the latter. Orlach and Miss Dawson were well-known Tory supporters; ultimately that’s why he backed off, and why your brother was able to carry on with the publication of his book.’
He paused for a moment. ‘To be absolutely frank, Mr Kilmarnock, since Mrs Gates is dead, I’m not too bothered about her guilt or innocence . . . although for what it’s worth, the evidence regarding the security of their property sounded significant to me. Most bookies I know protect their homes like Fort Knox.
‘On the basis that this is between professionals, and therefore confidential, my concern is that there might be someone out there who does believe that she was wronged, and who is doing something about it.’
‘What makes you think that?’ Kilmarnock asked.
‘Who were the Appeal judges?’
The Silk furrowed his brow for a few moments, then a light of understanding seemed to go on in his eyes.
‘Oh!’ he said.
‘Exactly,’ said Skinner. ‘Because of that, I need to know the names of everyone to whom your brother spoke in researching his book, particularly those who were supporters of Mrs Gates.’
‘I understand.’
‘The couple had no children, I’m told.’
‘None. Neither had a previous marriage either.’
‘What about nephews?’
‘Beattie had one nephew as I recall. But I can’t remember his name. You won’t find it in Arnold’s book, either. He asked to be kept out of it.’
‘Where will I find it, quickly, without going through a laborious search at Register House?’
Kilmarnock hesitated, then murmured, ‘Oh I don’t suppose he’ll mind.’ He looked up at Skinner. ‘While Arnold’s away, I’m holding all of his files on the case. Photographs, the lot. We kept all the scene-of-crime stuff; we also had studies of Beattie taken by a medical photographer, to illustrate the extent of her muscle wastage. That was among the material that the Court of Appeal wouldn’t look at . . . or couldn’t,’ he added grudgingly.
‘I’ll give you those, if you guarantee to return them intact when you’re done with them.’
‘Of course,’ the policeman agreed. ‘When can I have them?’
The advocate glanced at his watch. ‘Drive me home now, and I’ll hand them over.’ He threw Skinner a self- satisfied, smug glance. ‘One is an Officer of the Court after all. One has an obligation to help you chaps.’
72
‘Bloody hell, Boss, what’s all that?’ Neil McIlhenney burst out, as he stepped into Skinner’s office and saw the piles of paper on his desk.
‘These are the records in the case of Mrs Beattie Gates, the one that links our three dead judges together. Richard Kilmarnock handed them over. They belong to his brother, the journalist.’
‘D’you want me to go through them, sir?’
Skinner smiled at his assistant’s willingness. ‘No, Neil. I want you to do the same as I intend: go home and spend some time with your wife and kids. Once you’ve told me what you’ve come in to tell me, that is.
‘Sit down, man, sit down.’ He ushered him to one of the leather seats, where Andy Martin sat waiting. ‘I thought that it would be a good idea if the three of us had a round-up of everything that’s happened today. I’ve just briefed the DCS on the exhumation and on the post-mortem on old Orlach, also on your interviews with the Newton and Collins wives.
‘What else have do you have to report?’
The big sergeant slumped wearily into a chair. ‘I’ve been back up to the TA Club as you ordered, Boss. I spoke to the manager about the Paras gang.
‘It seems that Collins and Saunders were the first to become members. They joined at the same time, a few years back. Mr Herr’s recollection was that it was when they came out of the army and joined the Terriers. Clark and Newton came along after them, in the same way.’
‘Together?’
‘No. Individually, one after the other, about six months apart.’
‘And what about Bennett and MacDonnell?’
McIlhenney shifted in his chair. ‘Aye, now they were a bit different. They were both associate members. They joined at the same time, proposed and seconded by Curly Collins and Rocky Saunders.’
‘When was that?’ Skinner asked.
‘Turn of last year, sir, early December.’
The DCC leaned forward, eyes narrowing. ‘Introduced at the same time, you say. And had they known each other beforehand?’
‘This is when it gets good, Boss. When I asked him whether they were old pals, Barry Herr said that he distinctly remembered Rocky Saunders introducing the two of them to each other on the first night they came to the club. “That’s when the Paras became a sextet”, he said to me.
‘He remembered a lot about that night, did Barry. Apparently Hamburger was there too. The seven of them went off into a back room and drank there, on their own. Arlene Regan waited on them. At the end of the night, they all left together, except for Hamburger.’
‘Oh?’
‘Aye,’ said McIlhenney, with a knowing grin. ‘He hung around, and left with Arlene . . . arm in arm. Herr said he’d forgotten that when he spoke to Stevie. He remembered something else too. When everyone else was gone he had a drink himself; he was just finishing clearing up, an hour and a half or two hours later, when Arlene’s boyfriend phoned, asking if she was still there.
‘They only lived ten minutes away, Boss.’
Skinner smiled, nodding approval. ‘What do you think of that, Andy?’ he asked.
‘The picture’s forming, isn’t it,’ said the Head of CID. ‘Our four ex-regulars come together first, then Bennett and McDonnell are brought in. When they all meet, it’s with Hamburger in attendance. It sounds almost like a conference. I wish to hell we’d a tape of the discussion in that back room, but I’ll bet that’s when they began to plan the robberies.’
